One Piece Drabble Collection
by Myrrhic
Summary: A collection of drabbles featuring mostly gen but also a variety of both het and yaoi pairings. Probably a lot of crack. Updated whenever.
1. Romance

First off, apologies for this rambling author's note. Don't worry, I don't make a habit of them. Unless necessary, there won't be any more longer than one sentence. (:

This is a collection of One Piece drabbles, since drabbles are all I have the attention span for. Truthfully, I lost most interest in anime ages ago, but One Piece can still amuse me. So.

I did something similar to this ages ago with GetBackers (which is on a different account) and it was pretty popular. Then, though, I stuck to 100-word drabbles, whereas here they're going to lean more towards 200-300 words. No more than 500 ever, I think.

In terms of pairings, I usually write **Sanji/Zoro**, **Luffy/Nami**, **Ace/Smoker**, **Robin/Franky**, **Lucci/Kaku**, and/or **Shanks/Ben**... but since romantic writing is NOT my forte, for the most part, you can expect gen. And a fair amount of crack. Also, I don't usually write het. This is the first fandom in which I've been drawn to a het pairing in a looong time. XD

I'm starting out with a Luffy/Nami one because, well, I'm not entirely sure why. It's boring and introspective and I don't like the flow and I did almost no editing... but it pretty much IS what I picture their relationship to be. So I like it. I don't often like my drabbles.

Title: Romance

Rating: G

Pairing: Luffy/Nami

Word Count: 463

A/N: Timeline-wise, this could probably be mashed in at any time after Alabasta, but I prefer to think it takes place sometime after the current manga arc, so... in the future. Obviously.

It sounded cliche, but if anyone had told Nami way back then that she would eventually enter into a... relationship with Luffy, she would have assured them that they were surely joking, delusional, or at the very least severely misinformed. The notion was absolutely absurd, utterly irrational.

Yet here she was.

They were the worst kind of couple. She was book smart and vastly intelligent and had a wealth of common sense. He was naive and gullible and possessed the internal calm of a rat on a burning boat. They contradicted each other in every way.

They were the best kind of couple. She was closed and cynical and couldn't always believe in herself enough. He was always open and had an innate wisdom that stemmed from being able to look at the world in such a straightforward manner. And he always believed in her. They complimented each other in every way.

She watched him. She watched him be free and honest and i _good_ /i in the way that only a person made up of such complex simplicity could be. She watched him liberate kingdoms and conquer corruption and laugh in the face of the world that dared to label him a criminal.

She guided him. She navigated him towards his dream in the nautical sense and the rational sense, reining him in whenever he lost control, then pointing him in the right direction and setting him loose again.

It worked for them.

It was so innocent. As if it could have been anything else with Luffy. She'd fall asleep sunbathing on the deck and wake up an hour later with his chin on her shoulder, his arm draped across her stomach, the breath from his quiet snores tickling her neck.

She'd offer him one of her mikan in a rare moment of generosity and instead of just shoving it in his mouth like he would with any other food, he'd carefully peel the whole thing and eat it a bit at a time, treating it like it was something special - something worth more than any amount of treasure.

Whenever he felt like she hadn't been paying him enough attention, he'd wander up to her and plant a quick but enthusiastic kiss on her lips, no warning, no heed to what she might have been doing, then dash off again to play with Usopp or Chopper, or to badger Sanji about lunch.

It was enough. It was more than enough. Initially, she'd found it vaguely perplexing to discover that she didn't need the passion and mystery and fantasy that she'd imagined when she was a child. Even more-so when she realized she didn't even i _want_ /i it anymore.

What she had was far from perfect, and it was perfect for her.


	2. Quality Entertainment

Title: Quality Entertainment

Rating: PG-13, I guess, for language.

Topic: Masquerade

Word Count: 271

Pairing: Smoker/Ace

A/N: Sorry for the shitty ending. I didn't think I could continue without careening past the word limit. Also, thank you ffnet for fucking up my formatting. oO

Ace slipped lithely through the window into a dark hallway. He paused briefly to adjust his gaudy mask and the itchy button-down shirt that was the one concession he would make towards formality. Then he was off, sauntering to the great doors at the end of the hall, beyond which the Marine's annual Masquerade was taking place.

He had it on good authority that Smoker would be there, probably under a good deal of protest. He could not have engineered a more perfect opportunity for entertainment if he'd tried.

The great ballroom was decked in an atrocious number of ridiculous decorations and was packed with hundreds of anonymous people. Ace didn't bother to hide - after all, what reason would anyone have to suspect that a notorious pirate would attend such an event? Instead, he grinned cockily and waved at the people around him, and blew kisses to the women, all the while keeping an eye out for a familiar character.

Smoker wasn't difficult to find. He had a distinctive build, and besides that he obviously hadn't taken any great pains to conceal his identity beyond the silly feathered mask he was wearing. The Marine was slouched moodily against one wall, looking as though he'd been there all evening and intended to stay there.

Casually, Ace ambled over and slumped next to the captain. He could feel the tension radiating off the man and he couldn't suppress a massive grin.

"Ne, Taisa, wanna go someplace a little less crowded?" he proposed smugly. The tension gave way to surprise.

"God_dammit_, Portgas, what the _fuck_ are you doing here?"


	3. Empty Threat

Title: Empty Threat

Rating: PG-13, for language.

Topic: Masquerade

Word Count: 401.

Pairing: Smoker/Ace

A/N: Tentative sequel to Quality Entertainment.

Smoker scowled viciously at the various elaborate topiary that, while expected in such a uselessly lavish garden as the one in which he was currently standing, was nevertheless almost as grating on his nerves as the boy in front of him. He couldn't understand the _point_ of topiary. Fucking stupid things, didn't make any logical sense. If you want an animal in your garden, catch one and throw it in a cage. Or kill it and stuff it, whichever was preferred, but don't plant a damn bush. By all rights it should be common sense.

There was one massive topiary figure not far away that was bizarrely shaped like a hippopotamus. Its leafy mouth was gaping wide open and if he looked at it from the right angle, he could almost imagine that it was going to eat Ace whole and so end all his problems.

Smoker used two fingers to massage his temples in effort to stave off a headache. The stupid feathers on his stupid mask got in the way, so he tore it off and threw it on the ground. "Are you an idiot?" he said.

Ace laughed at him, turning his attention away from a tree-flamingo. "I like to think I'm not," he said.

"I should arrest you right now," Smoker growled at him. He knew it was an empty threat, and that just made him more angry.

"I'd like to see you try," came Ace's voice, and it was startlingly soft and alarmingly close. He hadn't actually been looking at the boy, so he hadn't noticed the silent movement. Ace was right in front of him now, inches separating them. He gently pushed Smoker's fingers aside and replaced them with his own, "Let me help you with that, Tai-sa." The teasing lilt on the last word was specially designed to peeve him, mocking and suggestive at the same time.

He might have objected more, but Ace's fingers felt nice and the night had been stressful and he could feel the pirate's even breath on his neck, which was somehow soothing.

Smoker was still inwardly cursing himself when Ace's hands were suddenly gone from his temples, only to tug deftly on his belt loops.

"C'mon already," Ace said, not bothering to hide the whine in his voice. "Let's get out of here. Being in the same place as this many Marines is making me suicidal."


	4. What Comes Around

Title: What Comes Around

Rating: PG-13, for language.

Word Count: 333.

Pairing: Zoro/Sanji if you want to see it.

Summary: Sanji tries to think. Zoro makes a mistake.

The hot colors of the sunset marched slowly across the horizon, as though the sun were trying to smother the cool blue flame of the day's sky into the dark ashes of dusk. Sanji watched absently as the sun finally slipped defiantly below the waves and the soft twilight blue inked fully into the black obscurity of night. There was very little light on the deck, but Sanji didn't need much light to think and the pale moon and stars provided plenty. He exhaled a final wisp of smoke before stubbing out his dying cigarette and flicking it overboard.

Very abruptly and with absolutely no regard to the evening's serene mood, someone punched Sanji on the back of his head, hard.

"Fuck!" he spat, not at all amused at having been interrupted, and spun around, throwing an instinctive kick that ended up awkwardly missing due to his sitting position.

"Oi," said Zoro (_and who else could it have been?_ thought Sanji grumpily) as he plopped down next to him and leaned against the ship's wooden side.

"Why the fuck did you do that, you stupid assface?" Sanji shouted at him as he rubbed the back of his head. It didn't hurt really, but it that was hardly the issue.

"You were bothering me," Zoro said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Shh, I'm trying to sleep," he added.

Sanji gaped at him, disbelieving. "I wasn't doing anything!"

"Were too."

"I was just sitting there!"

"Shh. Sleeping."

Sanji fumed. "What the hell was I _doing_ then, shithead?" He punctuated the shouted question with an indignant kick. Zoro caught his foot and held it, which was just even more aggravating.

"Looked sad," the moron grunted. Sanji was stunned silent for a moment. Then he swung his other foot around, using Zoro's grip as a pivot, and landed a kick right in the bastard's face.

"That wasn't _sad_, that was _melancholy_, you fuckwit!"


	5. Food For Thought

Title: Food For Thought

Rating: G

Word Count: 144

Pairing: Smoker/Ace

Topic: Feast

A/N: Yeah, I don't know what this goddamned crack is.

"'E et it," said the old lady.

"What?" Ace said, frowning.

"'E et it. I aten't cleanin' up yar mess, boy." The old lady shot a contemptuous look at the mass of dishes piled around him and moved on, busying herself by using a grimy rag to not so much clean as to spread the dirt and grit evenly over the bar's countertop.

_He ate it_, Ace's mind translated after a minute or so. "Wait, wait," he called out, perplexed. "He _ate_ the note I left him? Why?"

"Well I darn't ken, fer certain," the women punctuated that statement with a jerky shooing motion. "Pay 'n git yarself out."

Ace pulled his usual eat-and-run and a day later he blazed through the porthole in Captain Smoker's room.

"You know, Taisa," he snickered at the grumpy man across the room, "there are better ways of destroying evidence."


	6. Those Idiots

Title: Those Idiots

Rating: PG

Word Count: 266

Pairing: Zoro/Sanji implied

Summary: Zoro takes a popular simile a little too literally. He gets it a little wrong, too.

People said that kissing a man who smoked was like kissing an ashtray.

Who _were_ those people and what were they kissing ashtrays for, anyway? Zoro had been kissing a chain-smoking man on a near daily basis for over a month now and, while he'd never actually kissed an ashtray before, it didn't seem to him that there could possibly be any basis for comparison.

Well, for one thing, ashtrays usually had ash in them. Ash wasn't terribly pleasant stuff - it'd get in your lungs and make your throat all dry if you weren't careful. Kissing wasn't like that. Kissing was wet.

Even without the ash, ashtrays were usually made of metal for obvious reasons, and metal was cold. Zoro's _swords_ were metal - metal was sharp and icy and smooth. Kissing was none of those things. It was soft (though not necessarily gentle) and it was hot and it was... squishy.

And most obviously, Zoro thought, ashtrays couldn't kiss back. Zoro couldn't understand the point of kissing something that couldn't kiss back. There was no challenge in that! No one to fight for control with, no thrill of battle. Not to mention all the other fun stuff that usually happened during or directly after the actual kissing, and a person would find it difficult to do those things with an ashtray.

Zoro thought that if he ever came across those people who kissed ashtrays, he'd benevolently inform them that they must be wrong, and also that they could find their own men and kindly leave his man out of their silly analogies.


End file.
